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Sam's forehead pressed against the cool glass. The air conditioner clinged and clanged a familiar tune. Rock music floated through the speakers, Dean kept it down trying not to disturb his sleeping brother. Every so often, completely out of habit, Dean glanced at Sam. When Sam was a baby, Dean would watch over him as he slept. Not in the creepy vampire bullshit way, just to make sure he was all good. Sam was banged up pretty bad. His wrist was wrapped up tight and he had a cut running down his cheek. The latest case they worked featured a tweenage ghost, puberty, and a whole lot of confusion. The little punk pranked his victims to death. Let’s just say that it beat any prank war Sammy and he had.
Dean figured that the next motel was coming up fast. The plan was to crash there for a day or two, have a one-night stand or two, then roll out of town. Or, that was Dean’s plan. Sam was probably going to nerd out and be overbearing because that’s the only thing Sam does.
After about an hour of driving Dean finally found that damned motel. He pulled into the parking lot and switched Baby off. Dean checked himself out in the rearview miror to make sure he didn’t look serial killer-ish. He noticed that the creepier he looked, the more people watching them. It makes Dean wonder how the cops weren't called when he and Sam was younger.
He opened the door and stepped out of the car. The place was awful. It was ragged and wore down with age. The siding was nearly gone, sidewalk was cracked and uneven with weeds poking out almost every step. All in all, it was like most of the places they stayed at. Dean walked up to the check in/out desk and pulled out the credit card. He peeped through the dirty window and saw a still asleep Sam.
"One bed or two separates?"
"Two separates."
The man looked out the window and saw Sam.
"Are you sure?"
Dean glared at the man. He knows it happens often, but for Christ sake couldn't someone see the relation?
"Yes. I'm sure."
The man shrugged and pushed the motel keys towards Dean.
Dean begrudgingly thanked him and went back to the Impala. He rapped on the car window three times. Sam jumped and blatantly looked at his brother.
"C'mon man, I got us a room. We both look dead on our feet."
Dean opened the door and helped his half asleep brother stumble into the room. Sam dropped onto the first bed and was out again. He walked back to the car and grabbed their things. It wasn't much, just a duffel for each and then a small backpack with things they both hold dear. Dean's baby blanket, Sam's Stanford acceptance letter and, two pictures that had Mary, a baby Sam, little Dean, and a much happier John.
Dean shut the trunk and hauled ass back to the motel room. Sam was curled into a little ball and still had his shoes on. Dean sighed and dropped the two bags on the floor, he went over to his little brother and took off Sam’s shoes.
“Sam, can you get your ass up for five minutes?”
“Go away, ‘M sleeping,”
“Hey, if you wanna go to sleep bloody and dirty be my guest.”
Dean dropped the shoes and walked towards his bed. Sam begrudgingly took off his shirt and pants and flopped back into his bed. Dean did the same and for the rest of the night, the Winchester brother slept peacefully.
Sam woke before Dean, which was pretty normal. He left out to grab a cup of coffee and breakfast burrito for both of them. When Sam returned, half an hour or so later, Dean was still conked out. Dean could sleep all day if you let him, while Sam could wake up at 7 am and still be functioning. He spend about two hours searching the Internet for any cases that seemed to have a touch of paranormalness but so far found nothing. Finally, Sam found a few articles about 5 boys who all had the same name and all were African American and each boy was found with slits all over his body.
Sam stood up from the uncomfortable chair and shook his brother awake.
“What the hell, Sammy? It’s like 3 am?”
“Dean, it’s 9.” Sam walked back to the table and tossed the burrito.
Dean sighed deeply, before digging into the burrito.
“Do you not like the burrito?” Sam said in disbelief, it was rare for Dean to not like food.
“No, the burrito is awesome. But you’re like a frigging gas bomb.”
“Nice metaphor, Jerk.” Sam brought over the laptop to show Dean the articles.
“What the hell are you showing me, bitch?” Dean snarked back.
Sam gave his laptop to his brother and watched as Dean scrolled through each article before closely examining the pictures. Looking for something that would clue in supernatural elements.
“Seems like our type of party. We’ll get everything nice and ready, then get the hell outta dodge.”
“Sounds good to me, do you need an aspirin or something? You slammed into a wall pretty damn hard, Dean.”
“Sammy, I’m probably a wall slammer pro by now. I get slammed into a wall basically everyday.” Dean joked.
“Fine, the case is in Arkansas and we are nowhere near Arkansas. So we should probably get a move on.”
The two brothers walked around the room picking up their dirty laundry and the trash from the they burritos, in a half an hour they were in the Impala driving away from the crappy motel.
“Y’know, that guy thought we’re together. Like, together together.” Dean said with a laugh.
“Yeah, I can do a helluva lot better than you.” Sam said casually as he glanced at the map.
“Hey, screw you man. I’m hot.” Dean took a hand off the wheel flicked his arm.
“I think all that alcohol finally got to you, Dean.”
The two brothers laughed and insulted each other. It made Sam feel better, especially after the whole trickster thing. Living all those months without his brother, his right hand. It felt wrong, it felt like another one of the allusions. Spending everyday, alone, depressed, it fucked with him.
“Hellooo, Sammy? Ya there?”
Sam blinked a few times to get his bearings.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“You missed the question dude. The most important question, ever!”
“What was the question?”
“Princess Leia or Buffy?”
“Easy, Princess Leia. She is the original badass.”
They played that little game for a few hours, every once in awhile, Sam would take a quick peek at the map to make sure they were on the right path. The one thing that cut through the comfort was Asia playing softly through the radio.
Dean immediately switched to a channel that played bubblegum pop.
“You, ah, you still with Sammy?”
Sam struggled to keep his breath even, his eyes were stinging.
“Sam? Sam, you gotta breathe Sammy. Just in and out, okay? Can you do that for me?”
“What - what day is it?” Sam croaked out.
“That doesn’t matter Sammy. In and out.”
“Dean, please what day is it?”
Dean’s eyes left the road to gaze into his brother’s. Green on brown, for the last time.
“Sammy,” A pair of headlights shone behind Dean, illuminating the car. “Sammy, it’s Tuesday.”
Before Dean's broken voice hit Sam, before the irony and the panic and the absolute anger hit him. The semi-truck hit them both.